


Got a New Drug

by Ellen Smithee (ellensmithee)



Series: Not an Addict [2]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Bloodplay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellensmithee/pseuds/Ellen%20Smithee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon has to contain a brokenhearted, drunk!Alaric. Smut ensues. Sequel to "Blow by Blow." Part 2/3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got a New Drug

Alaric was putting away an impressive amount of alcohol. Damon had already rescued him once from an impending scuffle with Carol Lockwood earlier in the evening. Surprisingly, she let them to stay. Then again, it was a fundraiser for her precious United Daughters of the Confederacy, and the more bodies she could keep up and around, the better her little organization looked. Bully for her. Damon polished off his whiskey and nodded at the bartender for another.

At the moment, Damon wasn't so sure Alaric wasn't headed for complete disaster. He was glaring in the general direction of John and Jenna, who may as well have been fucking in the middle of the party for the way it was winding Rick up. Damon leaned on the bar, biding his time and wondering whether or not he was going to step in. He was still undecided.

And then there was the part of him that didn't want to _define_ whatever the hell was going on with Alaric. Stepping in during some testosterone-laced display of tail-feathers and dick size seemed awfully _boyfriend_ -like. And that wasn't Damon's M.O.

At least it hadn't been before. Now, he wasn't entirely sure. And he didn't like that. Jesus, he was too sober. He took the next glass from the bartender and drank down a long gulp. Alaric was getting to his feet.

Well, fuck.

Alaric swayed and grabbed the back of his chair, steadying himself before heading towards the dance floor. Damon pushed away from the bar and intercepted him, blocking him with his arm, sliding it around Alaric's chest as he guided him forcefully towards the door.

"Hey!" Alaric said, his voice slurred. "Lemme go. Have to save Jenna from Mr. Tentacle Monster."

"No way," said Damon, dragging Alaric up against him as he pulled the drunk man along. "I have to save _you_ from yourself. Since I'm apparently all fucking altruistic now, or something."

"You're a man with a heart," Alaric said. He was suddenly pressing himself against Damon in a way that didn't seem entirely accidental. "Won't you go take John's, too? Right through his chest. No one will miss him."

"I would _love_ to," said Damon, grinning wickedly. "Problem is, Elena would get pissed. And not in the fun British drunk sense of the word."

"Fuck Elena," Alaric growled. Then he scowled. "No, don't. Don't want you to do that." He glanced back at John. "No Gilbert fucking today."

"Yeah, no Gilbert fucking today," Damon said, slightly bitter. He looked Alaric in the eyes. "You need a distraction."

"Punching John would be the _perfect_ distraction," Alaric said. "My fist. His face. Heaven."

Alaric stumbled over the doorsill, and Damon rolled his eyes, grabbing him before he fell and bundling him into the room. He shut the door behind him, turning the lock before dragging Alaric over to the couch and dumping him unceremoniously onto it.

"Tell you what," he said. "When you're sober, if you still want a crack at Uncle John, I'll set the whole thing up for you. Although, I'm starting to worry this is becoming a fetish with you."

Damon swung one leg over Alaric, dropping to his knees on the couch, straddling Alaric's hips. "And I'd rather see you working on a fetish of another sort."

Alaric's expression turned mulish, and Damon pressed down on the other man's legs to hold him in place, just in case.

"There's no time for that!" Alaric tried in vain to buck Damon off his lap. "The woman I love is being mauled by the biggest tool in the box." He broke off and frowned. "That came out wrong."

"There is _now way_ John Gilbert is the biggest--" Damon shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You're an obsessive creepy stalker, Rick. You're like... me, but without the coolness quotient and fangs."

He wriggled a bit on Alaric's lap, to get comfortable, and to remind the other man that he didn't need fucking _Jenna_ , for chrissake. Alaric's head lolled back and he looked at Damon, seeming to focus on him for the first time since they'd entered the room. Damon shivered as the other man slid his hands up the back of Damon's thighs and then squeezed Damon's ass.

"I want blood," Alaric said suddenly, licking his lips. " _Your_ blood."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "All right," he said.

He swallowed, momentarily grateful for a conscience that didn't work so well. His fangs slid out and he sank them into his wrist, letting the blood run over his lower lip and down his chin. He started to raise his wrist to Alaric's lips, then changed the plan mid-motion, leaning down with swift precision and drawing his bloody lower lip across Alaric's mouth. He felt rather than heard Alaric's breath hitch, and then Alaric was pressing up against him, pulling Damon's lip into his mouth and sucking on it with a needy moan.

Damon broke the kiss and pulled away with a shudder, wanting everything at once and feeling an uncharacteristic surge of uncertainty as he tried to figure out where to start. He thrust his wrist against Alaric's mouth, grinding his erection against Alaric's thigh as he inhaled, the unmistakable sound of Alaric's racing pulse making it hard to think straight. Then Alaric's fingers slid under his shirt, teasing his skin, and made the decision for him.

Damon pulled his arm away, smirking at Alaric's frustrated whimper. He leaned forward and licked the blood off Alaric's lips and then dragged his tongue up Alaric's jaw to his ear.

"You can have more later," he breathed. "If you're a good boy."

Alaric writhed under him, closing his eyes.

"I am," he whispered. "I am a good boy, Damon."

 _Fuck._ Damon was going to come in his pants if Alaric kept this up. Damon was starting to want to _keep_ him.

"That's what I like to hear," he murmured. He reached between them, opening their pants with a few deft movements of his hand, then growling as he pressed their pricks together, his fingers trembling just slightly as they curled around Alaric's erection.

"God damn," said Damon, impressed with Alaric's hardness in the face of all he'd had to drink tonight. "You _are_ a good boy."

Alaric's mouth fell open and he thrust up into Damon's hand, sending prickles of pleasure through Damon's erection.

"Damon..." he breathed. "Please."

"Oh, yeah," Damon said, grunting as he rubbed his cock against Alaric's. "Oh, fuck."

His fangs dropped and he could feel the veins in his forehead rise to the surface.

"Need to taste you," he said, in the same tone he used for compelling, but this time his eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were pressed against Alaric's ear.

Alaric grunted as he pushed his prick into Damon's fist and Damon felt Alaric's whole body shudder beneath him.

"Fuck, yeah," Alaric rasped. "Do it. Bite me."

Damon hissed and then sank his fangs into Alaric's throat, squeezing their cocks as he started to drink deeply. Alaric was hot and willing and tasted _good_ , the warm flavor of whiskey heavy in his blood. Damon started to thrust wildly, on the edge of losing control. He was vaguely aware of Alaric crying out and then hot, wet semen was slicking his hand as he stroked. His jaw tightened on Alaric's throat as he started to shoot.

He nearly blacked out, the force of his orgasm and the taste of Alaric's sweet blood making it impossible to think straight. He pulled off with a groan, unsure where he'd found the willpower _not_ to drain the other man.

"Holy fuck," he breathed.

"Yeah," Alaric said, his voice so low, even Damon had to strain slightly to hear it. He panted as he gazed up at Damon, his hand flexing on Damon's shirt as if he wanted to grip it, but didn't quite have the strength. The look he gave Damon was so calculating that Damon felt something akin to pride.

"Now you have to give me more."

"Yeah," Damon said, smiling slowly. "Yeah, I do." He almost opened his wrist again, then paused and bit down hard on his lower lip, until it was bleeding profusely. Then he crushed his mouth to Alaric's.

Alaric lay still, unmoving, at first, his mouth open as Damon fed him, driving Damon almost mad with his passivity. Then Alaric shifted closer with a breathy moan, sliding his hand up Damon's shoulder and the back of his neck. As his fingers curled into Damon's hair, his mouth closed around Damon's lip and he sucked on it languidly for a moment before catching it between his teeth, biting it and forcing out even more blood. Alaric's hand tightened in Damon's hair with a hard twist and he tugged on it viciously as he deepened the kiss, rubbing against Damon with abandon.

Damon's eyes rolled back and he started getting hard again already, the usually advantageous perk of being a vampire. Now, though, he felt a small surge of panic. He wasn't ready to _feel_ this yet, not with Alaric. Finally, Damon jerked away.

"Enough," he said harshly, then his expression softened and he brushed his hand over the side of Alaric's face. "Take it easy, Rick. You like it too much to drain me dry, right?"

Something in Alaric's eyes sent a shiver down Damon's spine, but he brushed it off. He, afraid of Alaric? Ridiculous. Then Alaric gave him an amiable smile.

"Well, I supposed if I did, I'd have to find someone else," he said, sliding his hand down to the back of Damon's neck. "Maybe Caroline. You should see how she looks at me in class sometimes."

Damon's expression went dark and he shoved Alaric down by the shoulders, pinning him to the couch.

"If I were you, I'd remember that it's John Gilbert wearing that ring right now." He breathed heavily through his nose for a minute, then relaxed slightly, baring his fangs. "Or are you telling me you need to be _claimed_ , Rick? Because I'm more than happy to oblige." He flashed his eyes threateningly.

The look of fear in Alaric's eyes gratified him, as did the anger that followed. Damon tightened his grip again as Alaric started to struggle.

"Fuck you, Damon," he snarled. "I don't need you for this."

"Oh, you need me," Damon said, reaching down as he started to jerk Alaric's jeans below his hips. "You need me more than you know."

He slid his hand between Alaric's legs, grabbing his balls and squeezing just tight enough to elicit discomfort. Alaric growled in rage, but his cock stirred and started to harden.

"Let me go, Damon," he said through clenched teeth. "Or I _will_ stake you the next chance I get."

"Really?" Damon said, and he sliced his palm open with his teeth. "Because I thought it looked more like I was about to stake you."

He reached down, slicking his cock with blood, wiping it all over his fingers, before shoving his hand between Alaric's legs once again and pressing a finger into his hole.

"It's not necessarily the most comfortable lube in the world, but it gets the job done," he said. "And if you're gonna be fucking a vampire, you'd better get used to it."

Damon looked down at Alaric, breathing hard. He had an awful sense of neediness pooling deep inside him; he wanted Alaric to want him, to _crave_ him. And that was fucking weak.

"Beg me for it," Damon hissed. "You want it so bad, beg me for it."

Alaric's jaw clenched and he shook his head, despite the obvious desperation in his eyes. Just then, Damon stroked his prostate, and Alaric let out a low keening, his eyes rolling back in his head as he bore down on Damon's finger. One corner of Damon's mouth curled up in triumph, and he pulled his finger out abruptly, meeting Alaric's gaze in silent challenge.

Alaric raised his head and _glared_ at Damon.

"Hey!" he said, his bottom lip jutting out. "I didn't say you should stop!"

"So you want me to keep going?" Damon said, and he let his hand brush teasingly over Alaric's balls.

Alaric whimpered and squirmed, seeming to be trying to get closer and farther away at the same time.

"Yes," he hissed. "Don't stop, Damon. _Please_."

"That's all I wanted to hear," Damon said, frowning as he noticed the cut on his hand had begun to heal already. He bit into his palm again, this time closer to the base of his fingers, and let the blood run down them before pressing one back inside, and then the other.

"I'm gonna make you wish you'd thought of pawning her off on Gilbert a long time ago," said Damon.

Alaric's face tightened slightly at the mention of John Gilbert, but then Damon hit his prostate again and Alaric inhaled sharply.

"Damon," he breathed. "Hurry."

"Hurrying takes all the fun out of it," said Damon, working his fingers in and out of Alaric's arse as he rubbed his erection along the inside of Alaric's thigh. "But don't worry. I promise, it's worth it."

He pulled his fingers out, coating his cock with blood liberally, then, shoving Alaric's legs apart with his hips, he pushed inside.

"Holy hell, you're fucking tight." It was _brilliant_.

Alaric just groaned in response, his inner muscles squeezing Damon's prick as he hooked one leg over the back of the couch, using it to brace himself as his hips rose to meet Damon's thrusts.

"Fuck, Damon," he murmured. "So fuckin' good."

Damon's eyes rolled back and he gripped Alaric's shoulder, pulling himself in deeper, panting hard as everything seemed to shift. It was as if this had just become something intimate, something intensely personal, and Damon buried his face against Alaric's throat so he didn't have to look at the other man. He snaked a hand between them, closing his fingers around Alaric's cock, hard again already.

"If you can get it up this often drunk, Rick, I can't wait to fuck you when you're sober."

Alaric let out a growl of what sounded like frustration.

"Just... _Jesus_. Shut the hell up and fuck me, Damon."

Damon grinned against Alaric's skin, dragging sharp teeth over the throbbing pulse at the base of his throat as he started thrusting faster, his thumb circling the head of Alaric's prick with every upstroke.

"You gonna give it up for me, babe?" he murmured, tauntingly. "You're fucking hot when you come, Rick. Gets me off just watching you."

Damon's words were apparently all Alaric needed. He let out a strangled cry and started to come, shooting all over his stomach as his ass clamped down on Damon's cock hard. With a groan, Damon drove his cock in once more, shuddering as he collapsed over Alaric, breathing hard into the leather couch as he relaxed against the warm, _living_ body beneath him.

"Jesus."

Alaric slid his hands over Damon's back, pulling him closer.

"Yeah," he murmured, pressing kisses to Damon's shoulder and up his neck.

Shivering, Damon nestled in against him for the moment, until his awareness of the world around them, and the rest of the party outside those doors, settled back in.

"Fuck," he said, and he clapped the back of the couch with his hand, forcing himself upright. Looking down at Alaric, freshly fucked and covered in blood and come, gave him pause, and it took a second before he regained his wits. "We've gotta start finding someplace private for these little trysts."

Alaric snorted.

"Didn't peg you for a prude, Damon."

He looked around with a slight frown before grabbing his undershirt and starting to wipe himself clean. His eyes rose to Damon's face and his expression grew serious.

"What're you suggesting?" he asked, moistening his lips. Damon looked away.

"I'm suggesting that I like to take a nap after I fuck," said Damon, rising to his feet as he tucked himself back in. He inhaled and raised his gaze to meet Alaric's once more. "And that I want to do it again."

Alaric froze with his dress pants halfway up his legs and just _stared_ at Damon. Damon's stomach twisted as the silence dragged.

"Okay," Alaric said finally with a guarded expression. "Why not? I mean, yeah. Sure. I'd, uh, I'd--that would be cool."

Damon just stared at Alaric for a moment, then he snorted and shook his head.

"Yeah, why not, right? It's not like you're gonna find a better lay, well, _ever_."

Hurt flashed in Alaric's eyes and Damon felt like an ass. Which wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. But this time it was... uncomfortable. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

"So you're saying I suck?" Alaric asked. He looked down as he buttoned his pants. "That's probably why Jenna chose John, right?"

"Yeah," Damon said coldly. "Because I totally choose to run around fucking guys who suck in bed. It's all part of my long-term plan to completely annihilate my reputation. Jesus Christ, Rick, can you not tell the difference between me being _me_ in all my charming arrogance and me insulting you? Let me make it simple for you: I want to fuck you again because you're hot, because, for whatever reason, I _like_ your pathetic ass, and because you're fucking good at it. There. Ego stroked?"

Alaric watched him warily for a moment and then his whole body relaxed.

"Yeah," he said. "Consider it sufficiently stroked." He smirked. "At least for the moment."

Just then, someone started pounding on the door and Damon could hear Carol's voice rising above the din. he grabbed Alaric by the wrist and dragged him over to the window, throwing it open.

"Yeah," he said, using Alaric's shoulders to brace himself as he started to climb out. "More stroking later. Right now? I think escaping's in order."

Alaric following him out the window and then the two of them disappeared into the darkness, snickering like schoolboys as Carol's indignant cries echoed through the night.


End file.
